


Covetous

by magtuired



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crimson Flower Route, Dimitri is only mentioned, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, animal and people death, despite everything. it's still sylvain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23190037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magtuired/pseuds/magtuired
Summary: Gautier knows why he wields the Lance of Ruin.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 16





	Covetous

Sylvain hates. -and oh, how he hates.

It's poetic almost, the depths of his hatred. How much he hates, how deeply, how fully, how hidden it stays. His hatred lies buried under a blanket of snow and ice that cover his family land where it stays cold and untouched. Buried like his hopes for the future, his dreams, his childhood innocence and the family hunting dog Miklan had not the intelligence or patience to call back from the pursuit of a particularly wild young buck. Not surfacing until the melt of spring leaves bones sticking out of the mud.

In all ways he is the picture of a model knight; He rose to the occasion when it was asked of him. When his country asked, when the waning houses of Galatea, Fraldarius and Blaiddyd asked, when the waning spirits of Ingrid, Felix and the shadow of Dimitri asked. He a wears a smile and leads men who barely know the difference between the sharpened edge of a sword meant to take life and the dull curve of shovel meant to cultivate it. Sylvain watches them die and then comes back to their parents and he smiles wearing their blood and tells them it was necessary.  
-and he hates.

It's amusing to him, how someone as perceptive as Ingrid was stupid enough to direct all her anger and worry at Felix. Childish and soft Felix who said words that were meant to hurt, but never meant them. 

Felix has never really hated Dimitri at all.  
He was scared, yes. He was disappointed, yes. But, he never hated. Not really. Not in the way Sylvain did.

"Boar" because it was poetic, because stories from the time of Loog tell of great heroes who slay man eating pigs and wear their skin as trophies. Boar because Felix has always believed Dimitri would defeat the animal that raged inside him and become human again.

But, a pig is a pig and it will die like one. 

"You don't need to go. Neither of you do, this is...."

Ingrid and Felix turn to look at him. Ingrid with her shoulders back and mouth a thin line and Felix with the resigned kind of sadness that bleeds into his expressions more and more these days.

The truth? The beating heart of it all? None of it is necessary. Dimitri should have submit to Edelgard years ago, he lacks her composure and strength and he lacks the charm and wit the Alliance has in Claude to stay afloat and live. He is under no illusion that submission would have still been bloody, still involved pain but it would have been easier. It would have meant living under a firm hand rather than merely surviving 

Sylvain hates it so deeply but he knows why he has a crest of Gautier, knows why he was born into his family and knows why it's called the _Lance of Ruin_. Gautier exists to swallow everything around him whole. Gautier exists to destroy and leave lands barren and empty so the only thing that peaks out of the ground in the melt of spring is the bones of what you buried in the summer that preceded it.

His crest is a chasm that seeks to draw everything he loves inside of him and keep it there so he never has to live without it. An endless hunger that crawls around in search of scraps of anything people can give and then vomits it out when it's not enough.  
Gautier is ruin because it must be all or nothing.

Felix is close enough to touch, so he does. He grabs him by his hand and he reaches out for Ingrid but she's too far so he tightens his grip on Felix like a vice and reaches out towards her.

Sylvain reaches out and takes because he's been giving so much for so long the insides of him ache for something, anything, he'd _beg_ for it, please-  
"Don't go. Don't do this to me. Don't-"

Don't be Glenn. Don't be Miklan. Don't be Dimitri. Don't be every person who claimed they loved me and never came back. Don't don't don't don't-

Ingrid's resolve seems to break, even just a little. Her eyes soften and she walks away from the rack of spears she was preparing by and takes his hand. He feels like he's floating. All he has to do is make them stay now. They don't have to die for _Dimitri_ of all people. They don't have to die for their broken and fallen King who failed them. Things will be different under Edelgard, he can have them both, maybe....and they can be happy. He can be happy.

Their crests won't matter. The legacy of their names will be their own to decide.  
Fraldarius won't be cursed to outlive kings and sons like Rodrigue, Galatea will not fall to the earth a mangled and barely identifiable rider like Ingrid's mother and Sylvain will not become the Margrave Gautier swallowing a sad and lonely woman whole until nothing remains but a blank faced doll resigned to deliver crests into the world.

Ingrid places her gloved hand over Sylvain's but does not grasp at them. Sylvain can feel Felix trembling like he used to when they were children and he could not find the words for all the sadness that lived inside his little body. 

"I love you. Both of you." 

Ingrid smiles at him with her eyes. Felix stares at where their hands rest on each others.

"I know." Felix says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. A voice he only reserves now for cats and dying soldiers the same age as Glenn he gets too before throat cutters do.  
"But you have to let us go."

Sylvain awakens, as he always does from this dream no matter how much he wishes he wouldn't. The lines of the crest cut into his hand burn like a brand on cattle.

"My Lord. The Margrave wishes to speak with you when you have gathered your bearings concerning a missive from the Church." 

A maidservant with a tray of food who has clearly been standing there for a while, too scared to wake him herself bows, she's a pretty thing with somber green eyes and raven hair woven tightly into a bun who shakes with nerves. She must be new.

Sylvain smiles at her, it's all teeth and no soul. 

"Alright. But before that, why don't you keep me company. Just for a little bit. I'm sure the Church is busy enough that me taking a few extra minutes isn't going to kill anyone."

-because the man that speaks? Well, he's already dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: The maid is like thnx no thanks and Sylvain has a sad cum alone. 
> 
> Sometimes your girlfriend has an ot3 and you say "hey I'll write it!" but you're incapable of writing anything wholesome. This is based on a long standing headcanon of mine that Sylvain doesn't like Dimitri even a little bit. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this hot garbage. Come and talk to me about everyone's sad cums @magtuired on twitter.


End file.
